Purple
by Haru No Uta
Summary: Gojyo's search for the one blonde with the 'right' eye colour. Inspired by another fic I've read. 5x3. Yaoi.


Greatly inspired by a fic I've read. The link can be found in my homepage.

Redempton on Gojyo's behalf, maybe.

* * *

He opened his eyes and surveyed the darken room, lit only by the faint light from the moon. It was another strange room, among the countless strange rooms he'd always found himself woken up to.

Turning the see who had he bedded, for he couldn't remember, or didn't bother. She was a blonde. His sixth blonde this month, if he had keep tracked correctly. When had he taken a liking in blondes?

Dwelling in that question could lead him to an answer he would so much wanted to bury deeply. He scratched the back of his head and got up. His movements to get himself proper woke her. She had blue eyes, in which the moonlight had added a tint of purple.

Purple, repeated itself in his mind. Why purple?

She smiled and reached an arm towards him. He found out that he had no desires on this woman whom he had just had sex to. But somehow she reminded him of someone. Being a veteran, he leaned over and smoothly ended the affair.

* * *

He was feeling hot. The summer heat hadn't contributed to his restlessness as much as the priest did. Sitting on the sill, the miserable wind was hot too. He should be out hunting women, he should be. But something was keeping him here.

If he could gain control over his eyes, he knew he would still be stealing glances at the lithe figure. The sleeping priest had leaned himself against the coolness of the wall, instead of lying in his bed. One leg was bent with an arm resting on its knee. The darn robe had covered everything he'd wanted to see.

Sitting around doing nothing wasn't his motto. Stripping him in his mind doesn't compare to stripping him with his hands. The thought of undressing the holy monk aroused him, every time. He had well too many rehearsals to the point that, he was already too tired to re-enact the procedures again in his mind this time.

The priest was a light sleeper, waking up the moment a knee was set on the bed. Surprised was how he looked. But only for an instance, like he had been expecting this. He neither took further actions nor asked questions.

Strange, he thought while slowly reducing their distance. His burning lips met cool ones. Contradicting, that the coolness burned him. No movements came from the monk. He halted his courting, waiting for a smack on his head or the point of shoreijuu.

Nothing came.

Silence means consent, was what people say. He had wanted to taste those soft, cool lips again. They were trembling, slightly, under his own. He realised that the blonde had held his breath. Releasing him for a breather, he sought for the velvety skin on his neck.

Gasps were egoistically muffled. Pulling away pale fingers digging in his tanned shoulders, he pinned the priest by his wrists into the bed. Cloudy purple orbs stared back at his red ones.

This was the first time he sees him blushing. The first time he sees his breathing disrupted. The first time he sees him so close.

His closed over his mouth, seeking entrance that was easily granted. Lavishing every taste of him, memorising every curve on his body. He didn't realise till this point that he had fallen, ever so deeply.

_You slut ... I know you like this._

Regret flooded immediately. He should have whispered sweet nothings, like how he had to his countless flings. How much ego had he to keep when he had personally reduced his own pride into nothing the moment he advanced on the priest?

Humiliation was what he had done to the chaste priest. He was his first. And now, he was multiplying his crime verbally, if physically wasn't abusive enough.

He was denying himself for having fallen for his own gender.

* * *

He opened his eyes and surveyed his own room, lit by refreshing rays of the morning sun. It was their inn room, among the countless inn rooms he'd always found himself woken up to.

Turning the see who had he bedded, for he had remembered too vividly, or couldn't forget. He was a blonde. His seventh blonde this month, if he had keep tracked correctly. The one that started his liking in blondes.

Dwelling in that fact could lead him to answers he would not be able to manage. He scratched the back of his head and got up. His movements to get himself proper woke him. He had purple eyes, in which the sunlight needn't add any further tints of purple.

Purple, repeated itself in his mind. Finally purple.

* * *

End


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